It’s Saturday. We’ve been at sea for 7 days. The voyage so far is smooth without any surprises or crazy weather (read: wicked ocean) and we have been thoroughly enjoying the food varieties. There’s a routine developing but I am starting to miss talking (I should say communicating since I mostly text my sibs) to my family and friends. Especially Molly. I’m positive she’s having the time of her life being spoiled by dogless friends and she’s milking it for all it’s worth.

All along throughout the week the ship’s clock has been changing. So far we are 4 hours ahead. My phone says 3:29 am but on board it’s 7:29. By the time we’re done it should be a total of 6 hours ahead. That’s been weird. But since the sun rises at 7 am ish we have adjusted. The days are getting longer too. Summer. Ahhhhh.

Our first 3-4 days were HOT. Rudy even took a dip. The last few have been cloudy and therefore also less warm. Around 70/18C. Lots of seats around the the pool when it’s not as nice.

So here’s our daily at sea routine: room service continental breakfast at 8 am (ships time) which we have been enjoying on the balcony; pickleball at 9:30 or when we get there (it starts at 9) until 11 or so; coffee (perhaps breakfast with eggs for Rudy) after with some of the other players; quick change back at the cabin; I find us chairs somewhere while Rudy goes to the gym (totally admire his dedication); meet up at the chairs; chat/read/nap (I could mention that I’m on my 4th book); go for lunch; return to the chairs; back to the cabin for showers and change; off to dinner.

After dinner has been interesting. We have met a retired couple from Dallas and they have taught us to play bridge. Depending on the evenings show, we play shorter or longer. They have been playing for years and play every afternoon on board. Bridge is a fun and complicated game. We are picking it up and really enjoying it. Of course our competitive edge is on full view.

Tomorrow we arrive in the Azores. We are planning a walking tour of the islands capital Ponta Delgada. However there are also renowned hot springs (the islands are dotted with inactive volcanoes) and we think these could be good for our joints. It’s hard to get good info without internet and talking to other travellers results in mixed dodgy intel. We will have to wing it unless we can find someone useful on board. There’s an excursion desk (with limited operating hours until today) and also a talk today at 2 pm. We are thinking that we might alter our nap time to include the session. We shall see.

Hope to have a bit of connectivity tomorrow and shout out to some peeps. Maybe even play a word or two on my games ( if I can remember how). As well as explore some new and interesting locales.

Stay tuned. Over and out.

Literally high Seas. We are enjoying the bright sunshine from the indoor solarium as the temperatures have taken a plunge along with the rolling sea waters. The ship is bobbing gently with the waves but on deck it feels like a much greater movement. Yesterday we woke to fog and very calm waters. The captain slowed the ship down to a crawl as we cut into the wall of grey. The ships horn sounded on a schedule of 5 or 6 minutes and I recalled our boating days and how dreadful scary the fog was. Rudy reminded me that ship instruments and technology were superior to our meagre gps and air horn. It’s sunny today but a windy and brisk 60F. It’s our last sea day before we head ashore tomorrow in Waterford Ireland.

When my parents immigrated to Canada in the late 1950’s they were fortunate to meet a lovely couple from Ireland: Art and Marg Eldon. They were around the same age and owned a landscaping business in town. Eldons Landscaping. They took my parents under their wings and helped them navigate the culture and language. Including getting my mom to the hospital when I was pushing into the world. Their bond lasted for three kids and even a move back to Ireland by the Eldons. Mom and dad went to visit them in Ireland and enjoyed their hospitality again as their friendship reignited across the miles. Over the next years communication dwindled as Marg was ill and then, as gossip does, news of Margs passing reached my parents. They were sad and hurt that they weren’t informed earlier. Such is life I suppose … a gentle reminder to keep those dear close by if only by word.

Our first stop in Ireland will be Waterford; home of the famous crystal. We are going on a city tour and then the crystal factory. It promises to be interesting and I promise not to buy any crystal! The following day we will be in Cork where we have a city tour by bicycle planned. (Rudy’s busy in the ships gym “training”). Hopefully a fun cycle will end up at a local pub for a few pints.

I can’t help but think about Rudy’s long time friend, Guy, whose roots are all proud Irish, as we make this trek. Guy is very proud of his heritage and always brings a spark of Irish wit and fun when he visits. Rudy has referred to him as my “drinking buddy” since we do imbibe quite a lot when he’s around. Irish whiskey doesn’t stand a chance. I’m curious to see the Irish culture in full bloom even if it’s for a few short days. I know we will raise a glass or two to salute our Irish friends. And hopefully make a few new acquaintances while we’re at it.

In the mean time I’m going to sit back and enjoy the sunny vista on board.

Ahoy!

PS. Our new friends from Dallas might regret teaching us Bridge …. we came close to beating them last night.

We are on land! Docked today in the lovely Azores at the capital with a welcoming sunshine and breezy warmth. While Rudy gets himself sorted for going ashore I take advantage of the connectivity and touch base with reality. You can’t (or maybe you can) imagine how delighted I was to get an email from Sandy (who’s staying at our house with Molly and Otto) saying that all is well and complemented with a photo of her and Molly snuggling. My day is complete. Full stop!

Armed with our essentials (Rudy has a “murse” … man purse… and a knapsack) towel and bathers in case we venture to the hot springs, water, ID, phones, chargers. Check. We are off. It’s 9am local time.

Since we arrived in port at 7 am most passengers are off and running. I’m sure there’s a bit of cabin fever after the crossing and seeing nothing but water in every direction. We enjoy the calm exit and make our way through the terminal. It’s very modern and has, of course, the usual tourist stops you would expect. Mostly junk and booze. Oh. There’s a Burger King.

Using my phone app “GPS my City” we embark on our self directed walking tour. It’s Sunday. Most retail shops and businesses are closed. The only wanderers are cruise passengers, joggers, church goers and partiers from last night. Traffic is light. Beautiful day for a walk. At a quick glance around, it’s a picturesque coastal town with Mediterranean influences, cobbled streets and plenty of basalt due to the volcanic geology.

We turn west out of the terminal and our first stop is the historic fort. It looks like something from medieval times. Thick stone walls and towers covered by moss in places. There are military men on site manning the museum. A fountain out front highlights the huge edifice and is a fun splash pad for local pigeons.

From the fort we head north. There are numerous museums and religious institutions such as convents, monastery, and churches. The town hall is also en route as is the university, library and several gardens. The foliage is tropical and in full bloom. It’s so nice to see green grass and trees and brightly coloured flowers. Hopefully we will return home to some of the same!

On our trek we pass a huge outdoor flea market. For fun we take a peek. Vendors line the walking path of a small park under the trees. Everything imaginable is up for grabs: household items, clothing, shoes, jewellery, books, CDs, collectibles… you name it. Mostly you would not be able to say “gently used”. To me it was more “well worn”. There were lots of people milling around as well as food vendors.

There is an hermitage at the top of a steep hill. We climb to get the view and are not disappointed. The island is lush and hilly. I’m exclaiming about the view and another couple who made the trek agree. I assume they are from the ship. Nope. They are from Holland on a week’s holiday. We start to chat in English; it turns out that he does business in Canada and has been there 3 times last year! They are curious about the ship and ask a few questions. We walk a while together as we head back towards the dock.

By now we have walked almost 10km through narrow cobbled streets, many packed tightly with parked cars. We passed stores (mostly all closed), businesses, hostels, apartments (some for sale or rent) and some great old places undergoing renovations. Rudy said it felt like old Montreal.

Deciding to forego our excursion to the hot springs in Furnas (time constraint) we returned to the ship. Ordered room service and enjoyed the stellar view from our balcony. Once we set sail again at 4:30 pm we will have two more sea days before landing in Ireland.

Happy trails!

Our ship is sailing. Literally. We are heading out on a cruise today. Leaving from Tampa and heading across the Atlantic with stops in Portugal, Ireland, Belgium and Holland. Fifteen days of pampering, good food and whatever else we feel like.

Yesterday we left our home (with Molly and Otto in it) after much preparation including an unscripted goodbye pep talk with Molly. It’s now a 2 hour hike to the airport instead of 40 min. Therefore when Air Canada texted us the notice that our flight was delayed we were already en route. We planned a pit stop in Campbellville and now we had some extra time. Shopping!!

Even with our extra timed stops we arrive st the airport super early. We have parked off site for the first time as we are leaving from terminal 1 and returning to terminal 3. I found a budget parking lot ($400 cheaper than the airport option and $200 less than parknfly). Just in case, we left the car with no gas. Would be thieves beware!! They shuttle us to the terminal. Already we feel ahead of the game since we didn’t have to do the usual terminal marathon from parking garage to check in counter.

Rudy’s bag (as usual) is overweight so he removes a book for my bag. I even added items from our shopping pit stop (new bras and sneakers). The stereotype is not valid in our household!!

Nexus saves us more time (which we have to spare) from the endless security line ups. And we breeze through to the gate area. Rudy has a tender knee (pickleball mishap) so he’s in favour of finding a quick resto for a beer. We find our perch for the next couple of hours. Rudy has a beer and I have Perrier… airplane toilet?? No thanks. We use the time wisely to play word games and make sure our airline apps are functional for the inflight entertainment.

We are ready to board. I always get aisle seats even if we’re not together. It’s only a 2 hour flight and comfort is key. (For our return flight from Amsterdam we have booked club seats as it’s 8 hours).

Rudy is kitty corner ahead of me by 2 rows. I am seated next to a nice young man who fits in the seat without extra body parts migrating into my space. I set up my iPad and start watching The Favourite. This was an Oscar winning movie that Bails wanted to bail out on in the cinema when she went. I couldn’t resist. Plus I really liked Olivia Coleman in Broadchurch (Netflix binge!) I enjoyed the movie thoroughly … so wicked in many ways. During the film the snack service trolly went by. I ordered cheese and crackers and water. My seat mate ordered 2 scotches … I didn’t take it personally. As the movie ended we were preparing for landing. Perfect timing.

We make our way off the plane and to the luggage area. A slight marathon and I feel for Rudy and his knee. So I suggest Rudy sits with our carryons while I retrieve the big (equally not overweight) bags. The carousel is moving. I glance back at Rudy as we are among the last passengers left waiting for bags. How can this be I wonder? We were so early … were we too early? Is that as risky as flying stand by??

Then, in a last minute flurry, a few more bags pop out and ours among them. Whew!! I had visions of scrambling for toiletries at midnight in Tampa. Not good.

We take our bags out of the terminal and walk into a moist heat. Ahhhhh. The air of Florida. Fuck yeah! We find a bench for Rudy and I contact Uber. Osmel is on his way. His reviews said “great music”. I wondered if that was a good thing. His car is a Dodge Caravan so there was hope. I’m further assuaged when I see a text from Bails; her and Otto are on the couch yawning. All is well.

Uber arrives quickly and we set off to the Barrymore Hotel at Riverwalk. As we pull away from the airport Rihanna is serenading us and her video is on a small screen. This is followed by Miley Cyrus and then John Legend. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched music videos. It was a good trip.

At the hotel we are greeted by an energetic young man with the worlds brightest smile. Rudy asks how far we are to the cruise ports and smiley says: “it’s not how far.. it’s how CLOSE!” He’s cute.

We get to our room and the AC is on. That’s a beautiful thing.

Ship ship hurray!!

Sometimes my retired brain feels like a pile of memory foam. While working I could juggle an uber full schedule for myself and several others. These days I think of something random and I significant only to have it vaporized seconds later. It’s way more than “why did I walk into this room …”.

Now it’s the thought that I forgot something big that startles me from almost sleep state or even from a deep sleep as my subconscious continues the “what did I forget ” quandary. It used to be all business related stress and now it’s manufactured by my brain. The memory foam thinks there should be stress so it’s making it up??

The typical nighttime thought is that I forgot to take a medication. That’s so bizarre and unrealistic because I take zero medications. So what could I have possibly forgotten to take. A few times I even wake up in the bathroom with the drawer open. I startle myself back into reality and wake up trying to remember what strange dream made me get up in search of a fictional drug. Strange. But true.

Sometimes my brain is telling me that I forgot to take a pill (s) but I’m so sleepy in that pre-deep sleep mode that my lazy brain concedes to whatever consequences might result. And then I drift off in defiance. Once asleep I rest soundly.

Rudy has a smart watch that monitors his sleeping patterns. I wonder if it can also decipher memory foam behaviours. I’ve always been a believer in “ignorance is bliss“. Sweet dreams my friends.

My sister dared me. Sort of. I think my musings are comic relief for her sometimes; she needs a fix of nostalgia. Or to “hear” my voice. Either way, I’m happy to oblige. Usually.

She sends me digital nudges. A text: blogging? Or: I’m waiting! Ok. I’ll get right on it.

Living in the North (read north of the GTA) means that I try to combine meetings and appointments and parental visits. Today was one of those days: drop Molly at her favourite groomer, pick up rental hall keys, meeting st the rental hall, return the key, pick up Molly (all in the Milton area – my old stomping grounds) and head to Stratford.

I call to let my folks know I’m getting close. They know I’m en route but it’s the same question each time I call. Where are you? I’m in Shakespeare. (Yes. It’s a village near Stratford…). Ok, my dad says, I’ll meet you out front. As I pull in, there’s old faithful dad waiting pointing out where I should park. I park and before I can turn off the car, he’s got the back door open letting Molly out. I always pray for no squirrels since Molly would drag ten tons trying to catch one. My dad could be dragged far and wide. I tell dad we have to take Molly for a short jaunt and he agrees to walk along. My dad has had both knees and hips replaced. He needs a shoulder now, too but won’t do it. He’s too old he thinks. Probably right. At 87 who needs the agony of recovery. So he walks with his hands behind his lower back to avoid the arms swinging motion. Less pain that way he says.

We grab my bags from the car. And a little cardboard box. What’s that my dad wants to know. I tell him it’s biscuits leftover from my meeting earlier. Oh he says. That’s nice.

When we get inside the apartment Molly goes right into the kitchen looking for Mom. Firstly because she’s usually there and secondly because she’s usually got food. We call her the gravy train. Molly’s favourite mode of transport But mom isn’t in the kitchen. She’s in the bedroom looking frazzled. Mom, what’s going on I say. Are you ok? Oh yes. I was just looking for you out of the window. I also tried on the balcony. What took you so long?

I now bring Molly’s food along and let my mom feed her. Left to her creative canine culinary devices my mom feeds Molly a mound of leftovers minus any kibble. The result is chaos for two days after. Poor Molly loves the buffet but her system screams NO!

Next mom tries to feed me and dad. But dad has already got his mind on biscuits. I get a plate and turn on the coffee maker. Mom was going to do that but when dad informed her that he was having biscuits it didn’t compute. Threw off the whole routine. What biscuits? Where did they come from? When did you have time to bake? Coffee completely forgotten

Dad get the wine; she doesn’t have to drive says my mom. True. I’m staying overnight to take my dad to two appointments: ears and eyes (both are deceiving him these days) so out comes the wine and snacks. Did you eat dinner? Aren’t you hungry? What can I make you? I’m fine. Really. I had a big lunch. I can see the skeptical look on moms face. She doesn’t buy it. While I endure the pummeling, dad polishes off the biscuits. They’re good he says. Did you bake them? No … she’s doesn’t have time to bake. Where did you buy them? They’re leftover from my meeting. Oh. They are good. Mom, you should try one, my dad encourages.

We play cards until the hockey game starts. Come on! Let’s go watch the game. I stay at the table which is a safe distance from the den where dads giant tv (we call it the drive in since you can see it from the park) is. All 70 plus inches of high def. Rudy says you can see sweat on the pores. Gross. I think it’s like sitting in the front row at the cinema. Who does that??

Game on. It’s not looking good for the Leafs. Do you have to take molly out? Yes; she needs to pee. Ok. Your dad will go with you.

At 9 pm it’s lights out for mom. Dads still watching the game. Once moms in bed I tell dad I’m going out but he should stay put. He is relieved. Moms in bed and won’t know he disobeyed. We are naughty. It’s a bit of a drag to let your dog out in an apartment building. But Molly complies like a champ. She just wants to hit the hay. Getting groomed is exhausting.

We come back in. I want to wish my dad a good night. When I enter his “office” he’s intently hunched over a piece of paper with the illuminated magnifying glass. He doesn’t hear or see me walk in. I startle him. And ask what he’s doing. Nothing he says. What are you trying to read dad? My fortune he says. And then I realize he’s gotten a cookie out of his stash. It happens to be a fortune cookie. But he can’t read the tiny slip of paper. Hey dad, let me help you. Ok he says in defeat.

Your fortune says: others like your dramatic side.

Meh. It’s a let down. Not what he was hoping for? He didn’t get it.

Good night dad. Sleep tight.

Enough drama in Stratford for the night. How ironic.

Not just Netflix; that’s a bit harsh. It should be TV stress. Since retiring daily stress is almost entirely evaporated. Enter cold nights (totally miss the warm evenings outdoors in Florida) and hibernation tendencies and – voila! TV time.

We hate cable. Not just because the companies are nasty (all three of them) but commercials are the worst. Then we discovered Netflix and Roku and commercials became a thing of the past. (All I have to do now is avoid the annoying pop ups all over the internet). But the shows that appeal to both of us (less comedy and romance; more action and suspense) are, in a word, stressful.

Homeland (very difficult to find on any Canadian streaming option) was our first binge. We are hooked on Carrie and Saul. But the thought occurred to us that the writers for these shows have to get their material from somewhere. It’s obvious that Harry Potter is the lovely figment of Ms Rowling’s imagination, but Homeland is eerily like watching the news. Which we avoid because it’s never good news.

Do we have a built in need for TV stress? Adrenaline rush? Are humans required to ingest a dose of fear as part of the daily nutritional regimen? Hmmmm.

We moved on from Homeland (hoping and waiting for another season) to House of Cards. It played perfectly into our cynical view of the political landscape. Corruption. Murder. Deception. Fake loyalty. And a power husband and wife at the centre of everything contrived. The Clinton’s? Great conversations after each instalment. Could they sink any lower? Then real life got in the way and Kevin Spacey took a giant swan dive into oblivion. Show’s not the same.

Someone recommended The Good Wife. There’s a bunch of shows out there that make you almost embarrassed to admit you haven’t watched. Downton Abbey for one. Greys Anatomy. Mad Men. Just to name a few. We aren’t huge TV watchers. But the Good Wife sucked us in. Alicia Florrick is an interesting character. Good wife or wilfully blind? Again. Great conversations. It’s also fascinating to watch people lie without flinching. A skill I haven’t developed. Lying, it seems, is job requirement in politics. Fictional reality.

While in Florida we tuned into Bosch; highly recommended by my sister and we love the author who’s books the series is based on. Entertainment for sure. I’d heard about The Americans but was unsuccessful in finding it in Canada. Also riveting and a skewed look at the 80’s when we were more concerned with big hair than KGB.

Then came Dirty John. Stress level 11. Enough said.

Flash forward to this week. Previously planned programming is juggled due to NHL playoffs. Good chance for me to squeeze in Dr Foster, a BBC show that Rudy can’t tolerate. It’s salacious. And a concept that’s on every married woman’s mind at one time or another. Dr Foster faces a crossroad – sink or swim. She decides to swim. More like surf. On a tsunami.

Since we had such luck with Bosch we’ve decided to try out another author and so our newest binge is Jack Ryan. It’s nonstop action and suspense. Stress level 10+.

I’m looking forward to summer when evenings are spent star gazing and listening to the waves roll in. I can’t handle the stress of TV for much longer.

There’s always reading as a fall back. Quite into my two books at the moment: Chef by Patterson (easy bedtime read) and Bear Town (for the bathtub). Retirement is great. How did we ever find time to work?!

Aka Otto. Or Biggie.

Otto spent 3 months in Guelph with our friend, Steve. By all accounts Steve is not a cat person, but he offered to take Otto while we were down south. In fact, since he’s kind of an anal German heritage guy, Steve was a bit of an unlikely cat sitter. Cats, after all, are not the manly man pet of choice. Plus they shed and use a litter box. Not very macho.

But Otto is a cool cat as his nickname suggests. He’s also huge. So huge that his legs look shorter than they really are which you can see when he’s stretched out full length on the sofa. Otto is really good at three things: eating, sleeping and using the litter box. He’s also good at: purring, snuggling (at his convenience) and finding unusual and random places to nap.

Otto is very handsome. He has soft grey and white fur and completely pink nose and paw pads. The white parts of the fur are really soft and white. But he sheds. Like crazy. And when he’s brushed there’s dandruff. No wonder so many people are allergic.

The purring is constant (he’s a very contented creature) and sounds like a soft motor. Like a quiet snore. It’s a happy sound.

Otto is predictable. If you want him to come you just have to call his name. And if he doesn’t come trotting over right away, all you have to do is rattle his treat box (they aren’t called Temptations for nothing) and Poof! he appears with a smile on his face and, often, purring.

Molly and Otto are friends. And they were happy to see each other again. They had their hello sniff and lick. Sometimes I wonder if they have food smells that the other is trying to sample. Whatever. They get up close and personal and it’s fun to watch. Otto usually breaks the bond first if I’m watching. He knows it’s time for a boost up to his good station. We feed Otto on the counter in the laundry room so Molly can’t reach it and Otto can eat in peace and safety.

Otto’s litter box is in our garage; our friend John installed a doggy door. Rudy was concerned that Otto may have forgotten how to use the door so he propped the door open with a hockey skate. Definitely not a good interior design look. But a day or so later Rudy decided it was time to remind Otto how it was done. So Rudy popped Otto through the door into the garage and waited. Moments later Otto stuck his big head in through the door and I could hear Rudy cheering him on. After a couple more practice drills Coach Florio was assured that Otto had mastered the doggy door technique. Rudy, after all, is the litter box manager; he unloads and reloads the box regularly often commenting on how much “my” cat poops. Seriously. My cat. I’m grateful that Rudy does the litter deed without complaint; I can’t stand the smell of the dust.

Everyone is settling back into the routine. All bodies are accounted for and know their place.

Home sweet home! Missed you Biggie!

It’s a thing. In some places it’s like a ritual. Meditative. For me it’s inhaling the scents of nature while quietly enjoying taking Molly for a walk. We are lucky to have such great walking trails in our area minutes from the front door. My favourite is Nippissing Ridge. It’s a windy forest trail that runs alongside the runoff creek spilling melted snow in gentle waterfalls from hill to bay. It’s usually deserted. Sometimes, like the other day, we meet other dogs and their humans.

It starts at the Georgian Trail near the Macs Milk and winds lazily behind beautiful custom monster homes on a gentle slope upwards to the end near Alpine Ski Club. The path itself is crushed stone (now still mostly leaves from last fall that were covered in snow) with native shrubs and growth on either side. And, of course, the gurgling creek. There are a variety of birds making their home here. And the squirrels and rabbits which keep Molly fully on alert. We know there’s also coyotes because we see the droppings. But we’ve never seen the actual animal which is okay with me.

What I also enjoy is the decaying fallen wood pieces. Stumps, bark, branches, twigs and vines that create interesting art forms as they lie knotted and twisted where they fell. And the moss! It grows in such amazing colours and shapes on almost every surface.

The path is managed by installed culverts and drain pipes to direct the flow of water. So you can stand on the path as the flowing water rushes past underneath you. The sun easily peeks through the still barren tree branches and adds a whimsical sparkle to the water and soothing warmth to the chilly spring air. The water glistens as it twirls on its way to the Bay.

It’s a buffet for the senses. In your moments of wondrous admiration you have to be mindful to remember to breathe. Such fresh, healing air.

From beginning to end (you turn around at the top or walk back down through the neighbourhood) it’s only a few km – about 5,000 steps. But it’s exhilarating. And Molly loves it, too.

It’s good to be home! I’m now convinced that the saying “absence makes the heart grow fonder” also applies to things and not just people. I missed my house. And I didn’t realize how much until I we came home.

I thoroughly enjoyed the warm sun in Florida but I forgot that we live in a luxurious home. Yes, it’s a townhouse. But it’s right on the water; if I sleep walk out my back door I would trip into Georgian Bay. The view is endless and never gets old.

The kitchen is fully equipped and functional with gleaming granite counters. The Florida kitchen was white (appliances and sink) with laminate counters and cupboards with no handles. I really missed my kitchen. Our first meal back home was roast beef and mashed potatoes. With wine in decent glasses. And candles and fresh tulips and the fireplace glowing (yes … cold enough for a fire). Sigh.

Our bed is comfortable and familiar. It’s also on the third floor. We go “up” to bed which I prefer. Pet peeve: cooking odours in my bedroom!! Beautiful lighting. A wonderful bathroom. And the view!

Molly is delighted to be home, too. She loves our bed and is happy to head up there for long snoozes. She also loves the walk on our trail. No leash and enough snow to roll and eat. Hopefully it won’t last.

I missed the food supplies. Great stores with great selection. However the price of wine leaves me missing Florida. It’s nice to buy adult grape juice for $3 a bottle. With the exchange that’s about $5. You can’t beat it. So I’m going to explore the new LCBO rage that is Toro Bravo (a medium bodied Merlot from Spain) retailing at $7.95 … remember Fusion!? (Thanks for the tip Marilyn!)

Here’s the weird one: I missed the Saturday newspapers. Our beloved ritual resumed today with the full range – TO Star (aka the commie rag), The Sun, The Globe. Gang’s all here. News, insights, opinions (groan worthy at times) and, the piece de resistance… the crossword!

Finally, even though we felt like we packed the world, there were still things we missed. It’s been like Christmas finding some of our treasures again. But we also know now that there’s a fine line between well lived and used treasures and “stuff” (read: junk/clutter). So we are continuing to purge. Scale back. Simplify. It’s easy to do now. If it’s not used or useful it can go. Buh bye.

Had our first round of spring in Florida. Ready for round two here. Bring it.

Until then I will enjoy my house with Rudy and Molly. And Otto as of tomorrow.